


Cock of the Walk

by dustandroses



Series: Cock of the Walk [1]
Category: Oz - Fandom
Genre: Authority Figures Kink, Community: hardtime100, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:43:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Ryan always fought him, always pushed, ‘cause he liked it when Murphy had to raise his voice. He liked making Murphy lose his cool, liked seeing him sweat. It gave Ryan a charge he didn’t get too often these days. Murphy made him feel alive.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Cock of the Walk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [natlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natlet/gifts).



> Written for Kink Bingo, first posted on April, 29, 2011. Also posted to Hardtime100 for the Eight Hard Years challenge.
> 
> Beta by Ozsaur, my hero and shit.
> 
> Written for Natlet, who asked for anything with Murphy in it. Written in thanks for lending a helping hand during last year's Oz Big Bang last minute beta rush.
> 
> The story is set Post Season Six.

Ryan’s eyes followed Murphy as he prowled down the walkway outside his pod. He stepped into the doorway, leaning casually against the metal frame to give himself a better view. A group of bikers parted to let Murphy through; he turned and watched as they walked in Ryan’s direction. Nodding at Hoyt, Ryan glanced past the bikers to see Murphy watching him, his stare burning right into Ryan’s gut. Murphy let one corner of his mouth twist up into that cockeyed smile of his, then turned and headed down the stairs to the guard station.

He wasn’t sure when he’d started watching Murphy. He wasn’t sure why, either. There was just something about the way he moved, like Em City belonged to him, no matter what McManus and Querns thought. He owned this cell block, you could see it in his swagger, in the set of his shoulders when he stepped in to stop a fight, or calm down an argument. Ryan could hear it in his voice when Murphy told him to move along and stop being a troublemaker.

His quiet authority made people automatically want to listen to him, and do whatever Murphy told them to, and that was why Ryan always fought him, always pushed, ‘cause he liked it when Murphy had to raise his voice. He liked making Murphy lose his cool, liked seeing him sweat. It gave Ryan a charge he didn’t get too often these days. When Murphy was focused on him he felt buzzed, felt real, like he hadn’t in a long time, not since - not since Cyril died. Murphy made him feel alive.

When he caught Murphy a couple of days later slipping quietly down a dusty side hallway, acting all sneaky and furtive, Ryan couldn’t help but follow. Murphy stepped into an unused office, and Ryan cursed, realizing that there was no way he could see what was going on in there with the blinds closed like that. He decided to just walk casually by, anyway, as if he had a legit reason to be in a restricted area like this. Maybe he could hear something that would give Murphy away.

He wandered past, totally unprepared when the door suddenly jerked open. He froze in surprise for a second, which was all Murphy needed. He grabbed Ryan’s arm and pulled him inside, his firm grip twisting Ryan’s arm behind his back.

“Hey!”

Murphy shoved him against a wall, pushing up behind him, whispering in his ear.

“No talking. I don’t want to hear a word out of you. Is that understood?

It took Ryan a second to realize Murphy meant him to answer, so he nodded, just once, but that was all Murphy needed.

“Good boy.” The words were whispered, but Ryan heard the satisfaction in Murphy’s voice.

Warmth blossomed in his belly at the words, but Ryan fought the feeling. What did Murphy think he was, some kind of family pet to be patted on the head and given a bone?

He was pushed up against the wall, the right side of his face squished against the slick surface, but he still managed to bite out the words, “I’m not your fucking dog.”

Murphy leaned up against him, pressing him painfully against the cinderblock. “Did I give you permission to talk?” This time he didn’t wait for a reply. “You’re not my dog, huh?” He laughed softly into Ryan’s ear. “Well that’s good to know. You’ve been following me around for months now, pestering me for attention. You might as well be wagging your tail and begging for a treat.”

Ryan struggled in Murphy’s grip, angry at his dismissive tone, but Murphy had him pinned, his arm so far up behind his back that every movement felt like fire burning up his shoulder.

Murphy chuckled, his voice full of laughter. “Oh, I like that image. You lying at my feet like a hound dog, looking up at me with big mournful eyes, bringing me the paper in the morning like a good doggy.”

Ryan kicked back with his foot, the heel of his sneaker landing a solid hit on Murphy’s shin. He felt a brief glow of satisfaction at Murphy’s curse as the pressure on his body eased slightly for a moment. He didn’t have time to take advantage of it before Murphy’s weight was pressed up against him again. Ryan struggled to catch his breath, Murphy’s heavier body pushing the air right out of his lungs.

“I’m watching you, O’Reily. You’re up to something and I’m not going to stop until I’ve figured it out.”

Murphy shifted slightly, favoring his right leg and Ryan grinned, pleased with his success. Who would have thought that a sneaker could cause that much damage? But the change in position caused Ryan to realize something he’d been totally unaware of until now. Murphy was hard. Ryan could feel the length of Murphy’s cock pressed up against his ass.

As soon as he realized that, Ryan’s own cock started to harden, and he had to fight back a moan. Holy fucking shit – this was not happening to him. He didn’t get hard-ons for guys – he _didn’t_ \- but here he was panting, half-hard cock pressed tight against the wall. What was freaking him out the most, though, was the fact that he was pretty sure that with very little encouragement he’d drop to his knees and do anything Murphy asked of him. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. He couldn’t think, and Murphy’s hot breath on the back of his neck really wasn’t helping.

“You’re not going to have a moment of peace until I’ve found out what you’re up to, O’Reily. I’m gonna be on your ass every minute of every day.”

Ryan’s laugh was high-pitched and kind of giddy, although he’d deny that until his dying day. It must have been the lack of oxygen, because his body took over without any input at all from his brain and he swiveled his hips, rubbing his ass against Murphy’s hard-on.

“On my ass? What exactly did you have in mind for my ass, Officer Murphy?”

He reveled in the gasp of shock as Murphy let go of his arm and stepped back – _staggered_ back from the sound of it. Ryan flipped around, leaning heavily on the wall behind him, and smirked at the look on Murphy’s flushed face. He obviously hadn’t realized that his cock had been poking a hole in Ryan’s left butt-cheek until Ryan pointed it out.

Ryan watched, impressed, as Murphy gathered his wits, pulling his dignity around him like a shield. He pointed his finger at Ryan. “I’m watching you, O’Reily. Don’t you forget that.” He turned his back on Ryan and left him there in the office, the door slamming shut behind him.

Ryan slid down the wall and collapsed on the floor, still struggling to get his breath back under control. His mind was in hyper-drive, as Cyril used to call it, his thoughts moving so fast he could hardly keep up with them.

From what he could tell, he had three options. One – he could ignore that any of this had happened; he hadn’t been mauled by a hack, and he sure as hell hadn’t enjoyed it. Two – he could blackmail Murphy with the knowledge that pushing an inmate around had turned him on. Three – he could take advantage of the fact that he’d gotten his first hard-on in months by being roughed up by a hack, and figure out a way to make it happen again.

All three options had advantages and disadvantages, but Ryan had never been very good at lying to himself. It had happened, and as surprised as he was by the circumstances, he had to admit, he’d liked it. Liked being pushed around by Murphy, liked having all Murphy’s attention focused directly on him. It was a heady feeling. Just the thought of it had his half-hard cock twitching in his pants. He wanted more – wanted more of Murphy.

It wasn’t even really that surprising that it was Murphy he wanted. He’d been fixated on the man for months already. All that restrained intensity and the power he held as head C. O. of Em City – he had Ryan’s whole world wrapped up in the palm of his hand. Ryan had always had a thing for power – he was easily aroused by either the charge of holding it or by the thrill of challenging it. In the end there was no real choice. Ryan knew what he wanted now.

The biggest problem was going to be Murphy’s honest streak. He was one of the good guys; he wasn’t going to be an easy nut to crack. Although he had no idea what a hack’s rules consisted of, Ryan had no doubt that fucking an inmate was definitely against at least one of them. Knowing Murphy, he’d probably think he was taking advantage of Ryan or some shit like that, and his guilt would tear at him. Well, Ryan didn’t quit when he wanted something, he worked at the problem until he figured out a way to get what he wanted.

Strangely enough, what he wanted was Sean Murphy. Laughing, Ryan struggled to his feet, straightening his clothes and trying to pull himself together. His whole mindset had shifted in the last fifteen minutes; it wasn’t going to be easy to fit this new concept into his regular world-view. But he could feel his mind working again, and it felt good. Like he’d been asleep for the last six months, and he was finally awake. He had a goal now, and when he put his mind to it Ryan O'Reily always got what he wanted.


End file.
